Pansexual.

He'd toyed with the word for months before he came out. Occasionally bisexual sat on the tip of his tongue, but it never quite fit right. Like trying to shove a square block into a round space. It made sense for a while, when gay was too restricting and he loved soft curves as much he loved the weight of someone else's dick in his hands. But people were too beautiful and his heart was a weak thing that fell for eyes and words and the sound of laughter.

Sonja was the first person he told, and she didn't...react. As if the biggest secret he'd ever had didn't mean anything more than his opinion on milk chocolate (it fucking sucks, and it isn't real chocolate). Even didn't really care, for the most part. It was pretty cool, having a girlfriend that accepted him in so many ways. He thought he fell harder for her then. Because here was this beautiful girl who just loved him? In spite of everything that would make anyone else run for the hills.

"Hey, babe?"

"Yes, Even." He liked it when she said his name like that. Whenever he interrupted her it was always the same. Fond exasperation and little giggles that didn't really make sense. No one was telling a joke, but that was Sonja; always dancing to the beat of another song.

"I think, well I know. But I'm um, I'm not straight." Her eyebrows knit together, and Even just realized what he said. "I mean, I'm not gay. I'm pan-pansexual. It means, uh. I like people. Gender doesn't really play into it." She looked less confused, but Even was well into his nervous rant about still being very in love with her, eyes begging her to stop him.

"Oh." She wasn't looking at him, but relief washed over him when she nodded and continued to complain about her Norwegian teacher ("Honestly, she hates me. Britt copied my work and still got a higher mark than I did.")

When he told Isak (the fourth person who knew, or maybe third. Do his parents count as two people of you tell them at the same time?) they'd been cuddling, naked in the kollectiv. Isak's back against his sweat sticky chest, playing with his fingers.

"I'm pansexual." Isak turned around, smiled, and shook his head a little.

"Ok." They stared at each other for a few moments that felt like years. The thing was, this time, Even didn't feel the panic rising in his chest. Didn't feel his tongue swell or his throat close. Even telling his parents, the most open-minded people he knew, wasn't this easy. "Hey, Even?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm gay." Even couldn't hold back a snort and that set Isak off. They collapsed back onto Isak's bed, a heap of reddening skin and tangling limbs and ugly choking laughter.

Now, with pan pride flags painted on his cheeks, and a rainbow wrapped boy in his arms, Even is the happiest he's ever been. Because, here's a boy who loves him in spite of all his faults, who loves his faults like they aren't faults at all. Here's a family he's forged of people who accept him and that's a goddamn gift. Here's the luckiest boy alive and his name is Even Bech Næsheim; bipolar, pansexual, messy, always late, and incredibly loved. And that's all that really matters.